Mar. 26th, 2017

tfw you have too many wips and you want to work on all of them at the same exact moment so you spend three weeks toggling between tabs and adding two words to each one in a day and never have an update for anything ever and mostly just waste all your time. Snippets time!

Lost Kings: probably could update, 8k words, Cassian Andor crosses in. But now I have to connect to the events of Rogue One and ANH and I’m just not prepared in my heart for that, and it keeps getting clunky. Also I have to get Poe actually born, and, good lord, I don’t know. It’s all A Lot. 

“I think you do have a sentimental attachment,” K2 said shrewdly, watching him. “I think you’re telling me so I’ll know to watch out for it.”

“I think you don’t know anything about sentiment,” Cassian said, “so maybe you’d better keep your suppositions to yourself.”

“Help me categorize your relationship to this person,” K2 said. “You worked with his father. Was that a professional relationship, a personal relationship, or a romantic relationship?”

“K2,” Cassian said, “I don’t think that’s a fruitful line of speculation.”

“Nonsense,” K2 said. “You taught me to look for people’s emotional connections, that’s how you bring them down.”

“You’re on the wrong track,” he said. “This is a favor to Bail Organa and he picked me because, number one, I was nearby, and number two, I’ll be easier for the grieving mother to take.”

“Because of your sentimental connection,” K2 concluded.

Cassian sighed. “That’s not– fine, K2, sure, it’s a sentimental connection.”

“I knew it,” K2 said smugly. “I knew it!”

Home Out In The Wind: epilogue, Kes/Leia, getting everyone to Yavin IV. Once on Yavin IV, possibly can use this piece, written about a year ago, last updated in September. (Really? Oh my god yes, I looked it up.)

“But first. Okay. Imagine little Jess Pava. I’m just, you know, beginning to, uh, blossom into womanhood, y’know? And I’m having. You know. The feelings. The hormones. All of that. It’s just starting to become a thing.”

“Sure,” Rey said, a little dubiously.

“So little Jess watches that holo,” she said. “And there’s Fake Princess Leia, you know, in the tight white dress, and she has boobs, and no bra on. And you know that’s because of a real historical holopic, right?” She pulled over her datapad and called up the pic in question, which even to this day she still had saved in a convenient place.

The actual, historical Leia Organa popped up, nineteen and gorgeous, lipgloss flawless, in her white dress, holding a blaster up in a ready position, looking alert and dangerous and slender and sure enough, there were her unbound breasts, petite and perky, with just a hint of the peak of one nipple casting the very slightest shadow in the holo. It wasn’t an overtly sexual picture, but it was a very attractive one. The dress wasn’t particularly revealing, it was quite modest, but it draped loosely across her chest and did nothing to conceal the lack of any kind of brassiere or structured bodice underneath.

“Oh,” Rey said. “That’s. That one was in the survey but it was so small I couldn’t tell what the fuss was.”

“That’s the fuss,” Jess said. “So imagine, little baby Jess, who hasn’t quite stopped playing pretend with dolls, only now she has strange feelings in her pants and isn’t sure what to do with them. And so she pretends to herself. What if Princess Leia came to her, instead of to Han Solo? And so she comes in and says, Jessika Pava, I need a pilot to help me defeat the Empire.” She lowered her voice, made it breathy and sultry, and looked down, then up through her lashes at Rey, pushing her chest out a little.

“Help me, Jess,” Jess said to Rey, overdoing it but not so much that she cracked up. “You’re my only hope.”

Rey stared at her a little blankly, but then smiled a little. “Should I pretend to be you?” she asked.

Jess blinked, then grinned in delight, then schooled her features back to pretend-imploring. “I heard nobody can fly an X-Wing like you can, Jess,” she said. “I need you to save me.”

“You heard right,” Rey said, clearly working hard to keep a straight face. “I’m the best pilot there is.”

Jess cracked up, and Rey did too, her whole face opening up into amusement. “You’ve watched porn holos,” Jess said.

“I have seen a couple,” Rey admitted.

“It goes like that,” Jess said. “And sometimes I imagined the adventure to myself, where I’d fight bravely and maybe she’d have to bandage my– I dunno, arm or something, and there was a lot of drama. But then there’d be the grateful aftermath when she’d come to me and she’d take her shirt off and press herself against me all breathlessly, and say–”

Rey cut her off by grabbing her upper arms and pressing herself against her chest. “You saved us all, Jess Pava,” she said, and fuck, it went straight to Jess’s hindbrain, where every fantasy she’d ever had was all melted together with all the others. Rey was so fucking pretty, and her hands were strong and firm and her body was strong and lithe and there was only a hint of softness where her pert little breasts were loosely bound under the shirt she had absolutely stolen from Poe.

“Hnnghh,” Jess said intelligently.

“Should I take my shirt off and do it again?” Rey asked, still pressed against her.

“If you take your shirt off I will die,” Jess said, and her face was hot.

Sled Dog Guy: Cassian and Bodhi’s Romantic Weekend Getaway is all but complete, but I keep getting derailed because #1 the story should end there but I need a good conclusion to set up for the Sequel Where All Shall Be Revealed, #2 the next part is where it crosses in with Found Cat and I don’t really yet know how to do that, and #3 Baze has a collection now of POV scenes that don’t in any way belong in the story but he really keeps pushing. (If for no other reason than to explain why he doesn’t know Chinese Braille, which is a real thing and I know that but never explained that I know that.)


Cassian sounded distressed. “You gotta react, man, you gotta give me something to go on here, don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not– I can’t just react on command like that,” Bodhi said, “I’m having my worldview expanded, it takes a lot of attention. I hadn’t quite recognized how sheltered I was.”

“I’m expanding your worldview,” Cassian said. “Really?” He squinted incredulously, crinkling his nose, and Bodhi realized Cassian must think of him as worldly or well-traveled, somehow, must think of him as more than he really was.

“I live a very small life,” Bodhi said, a little sadly, “with not much in it really, it doesn’t take much to show me something I’ve never seen before.” It was more vulnerable than he’d planned on getting, just now, and he exhaled with a subdued kind of resignation, folding himself a little smaller.

“Bodhi,” Cassian said, and caught his jaw, hand curling alongside his neck, pulling him up to kiss him tenderly. “Oh– Bodhi, you’re– no, you’re really exceptional, you know that? It doesn’t– no, come here.” He cradled Bodhi’s face in both hands and kissed him, over and over, little soft kisses. Bodhi sort of resisted at first, but his baseline level of arousal was way too high to maintain any kind of cool for long, and after a moment he was pretty well putty in Cassian’s hands.


“Has he vouched for them?” Rey asked darkly. “Or do you just assume he has because he lets them in his house? He’s not that choosy about who he lets in.” She’d taken two weeks to get over the thought of Poe just up and giving Finn a key to his apartment, just like that, and had only really come around to it after Finn had explained some of how sex worked to her. (That wasn’t why Finn had explained it to her, but she’d decided on her own that it seemed like a suitable incentive.)

Finn and Poe had been dating for two months now and had pretty much had all of the sex, including a few of the things Finn had been convinced were just on the list to make the list longer. It turned out that there was some merit to some of those things. Some of them were a lot less interesting than the basic stuff, but there were a few things Poe clearly liked a whole lot more than Finn did, and a thing or two that worked the opposite way, that Finn really enjoyed but that Poe mostly seemed to like because of how Finn liked them.

Rey was still faintly disbelieving about all of it, but Finn could tell she was coming around on the whole concept.

“I think Poe would have been more alarmed about me going anywhere with them if he weren’t in effect vouching for them,” Finn said. “Even if they are operatives for the Order, or one of them is, I doubt they’ll make their move with both of us together.”

“Still,” Rey said.


“You were odd with that boy in Bodhi’s apartment,” Chirrut observed as they picked their way back along the snowy sidewalk. He’d insisted on making Baze walk with him in the snow. He liked to look at it, he said. Baze had given up on making sense of Chirrut, because it all eventually made sense if he didn’t worry about it too much, he’d found.

“Mm,” Baze said. Chirrut was speaking Mandarin, with his adorable accent. Chirrut’s first language was Cantonese, which Baze understood all right but spoke terribly. Chirrut’s Mandarin was passable, but not as good as his flawless English. For the most part, they spoke English to each other. Baze only broke out the Cantonese when Chirrut was badly disoriented; he’d really never learned the language well, and had a terrible accent and worse vocabulary. Chirrut used Mandarin for many purposes, not least of them sex, but mostly for gossip. His favoring of it during sex, however, had the unfortunate effect of having given Baze a kind of Pavlovian response where Chirrut’s accent turned him on. Mostly he could work through it, especially with thirty years of practice under his belt, but Chirrut wasn’t above using it against him. It did make the gossip more interesting, generally, and meant Baze could tolerate more of it than he otherwise would.

also #3b, I’m telling you this guy won’t shut up:

It was, despite being ball-achingly cold, kind of a nice break from jungle environments where things would crawl into the tops of your socks and eat you to death.

Baze considered himself too old for jungle warfare anymore.

BONUS ROUND PART 1: OK the entire bonus round is me possibly oversexualizing Shara but I’m sorry, I write stories with sex in them, I just do, and the one is just about sex, but in a normal fanfic kind of way. The second one I might keep gen, but I haven’t gotten the usual sense of direction from the characters so we’ll see. 

1) The Kes/Leia scene in HOITW made me revisit the very first thing I ever wrote that had Kes Dameron in it. I had started a tiny short story where Han Solo is injured in an obnoxious, not serious, but hard-to-bacta way (broken leg, I figure), and so Leia leaves him behind on Yavin IV while she abducts Shara for an unofficial mission. Kes is there with Turn Down For What Poe, who is 2, and turns down for NOTHING. The dudes bond, that was it, that was the story, I never really wrote it. (But that was when I figured out that Poe hadn’t really exactly been planned, which is what I went with in Lost Kings, and Kes winds up giving Han some advice it turns out to be too late for him to use.)

Anyway. This is when they find out that Leia’s pregnant with Ben. (I have feelings about fantasy contraception, it turns out.) And somehow, this winds up in a foursome. And I’m writing just that part, which is a glorious ode to gratuitous everything. But I’m really writing it. Just, slowly. On the back burner. But someday, I’ll publish it, because it’s over 6k words long now and also great. (also, experiments in present tense. yikes.)

Kes deliberately bites at Han’s fingers on his way in, and Han laughs and gives him a little more space.

It only takes them a moment or two to make Leia lose composure entirely. Shara sits up and watches, avid and bright-eyed. “Look at my husband,” she says to Han, softly, awed.

“He’s real pretty,” Han agrees.

“I wanna watch him fuck her,” Shara says.

Leia writhes in Han’s arms, and shudders violently as she comes, convulsively straightening her legs and arching her back. Kes manages not to get socked in the jaw by her pelvis and rides her out, gentling her with his mouth, murmuring encouragements.

“Fuck,” Han says, “so do I.”

Kes kisses Leia’s thighs as she calms down, and looks up at them. He’s kneeling on the floor. “If I’m good can I get back on the bed?” he asks, amused.

Shara laughs. “Come here, baby,” she says.

and BONUS ROUND PART II which I think I’ll do for for Bodhi Week:

She still couldn’t place him, but he made his way over to her. “Hey,” he said, with a tentative smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah,” she said, “thanks,” and then it hit her: he was the honest pilot. “Oh! You! Hey!”

His smile turned shy and pleased. “I wondered if you’d remember me,” he said.

She grabbed his hand. “Of course I do,” she said. “I never learned your name, though.”

He looked startled, but still pleased. “Rook,” he said. “Bodhi. Bodhi Rook.” His hand was cold, in hers; long, tapering fingers, and after a moment, he curled them around hers.

“I’m Shara,” she said. “Shara Bey.”

“I never found out what happened to you,” Bodhi said, looking down a little self-consciously. “I worried, but– I didn’t know who I could ask, you know?”

“Nobody found out it was you who’d told the truth, did they?” Shara asked. “I did worry about that, too.”

“Oh,” he said, looking back up at her– he was really pretty, actually, with enormous dark eyes, luminous and wide, long straight nose, curving mouth, night-black hair; he was almost birdlike, sharp and soft and delicate. “N-no, I– fortunately, I shipped out pretty quick after that, I didn’t have to see any of them specifically again anytime soon. You know, Chak never flew again, they reassigned him to maintenance last I heard.”

“Good,” Shara said fiercely. “He was an asshole.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bodhi said, wide-eyed and a little haunted. “He was awful. Really, thank you for what you did; you deserve a medal.”

She laughed. She was still holding his hand, she realized. She did a quick mental calculation: around here, her reputation would stand up to having been seen being friendly with an Imp in uniform. Nobody here particularly knew her, or cared, and there wasn’t any particular strong sentiment either way about the Empire here, no recent atrocities or conscriptions or anything. “Hey,” she said. “Come have a drink with me. I owe you one, at least.”

He gave her a startled look– his eyes were wide, liquid, striking, so dark the irises and pupils nearly blended together in the dim light here– and startlement blended to shy pleasure. “Really?” he said. “I mean– surely it would have done you more good if I’d stuck up for you from the beginning.”

Shara shook her head. “I mean,” she said, “it probably would have just gotten you hurt too, there was no call for that. You did enough.”
via replied to your post “aimmyarrowshigh replied to your post “aimmyarrowshigh replied to…”

ooh i just meant “not a plot device” as a positive “not a dumb Space Deus Ex Machina For Manpain~” kind of thing. (and i didn’t mean to bring any of this up as any kind of criticism or feedback on your kes/shara series, it’s just me in my own brain with my own shara-thoughts unrelated to anything except canon!()

oh gosh I started to write more of a thing there about how awesome it could actually be to use that and how you totally should, and then I got distracted and left like, a half a dismissive sentence there. Not what I meant at all! I totally got where you were going and was there with you! Double thumbs up. On the same page. Bros forever. <3

sugarspiceandcursewords replied to your post “aimmyarrowshigh replied to your post “aimmyarrowshigh replied to…”

You’re not missing a ton of characterization from Shattered Empire. There’s very little of Kes and then just a couple of minor adventures for Shara, once with Leia and once with Luke. It’s decently done but by no means critical to developing either Shara or Kes.

That was what I figured, and every time my finger hovered over the buy button on amazon i was like, I know that I have already seen all the parts of this I actually want to and the rest will probably annoy me, but, for completeness’s sake, i should… mngh blrgh ugh, and so I never bought it.

I have a sort of dirty secret, here, which is that I don’t talk about my fannish interests IRL much at all. Star Wars has been a boon because everyone in the world is very slightly Into It, so making yourself a shirt with an X-Wing on it, and having a BB-8 figurine in your car, is like, baseline normie. 

That and Marvel, actually– I get to bond with little kids over my Captain America jammies, that’s as Into It as anyone in my real life knows I am.

Buying a Star Wars comic book would be, like– admitting that I’m into it, kind of. Which is ridiculous. But anyway.

Nobody in my real life has ever read anything I’ve written. I did give the sister whose apartment I stole for Found Cat a link to the story, but I know she’s never read it so I’m glad I didn’t psych myself out about it too much. 

It makes for being kind of lonely, actually, but. Maybe that’s why I get so overinvested in online feedback, because I just– that’s it, that’s all I get. 

I’m always so jealous when I read other writers talking about their moms being supportive or when readers are like “i read this story with my bestie and we texted about it” and like… I don’t know what that would be like, because I can’t figure out how to open my mouth and talk out loud about these things. I’ve tried– I did tell the farm b-i-l that I write fanfiction sometimes, and i know he told my mother because she said something offhand that made all my insides curl up into excruciating embarrassment and i went to great lengths to be excessively uninteresting about it. My mother would like to be supportive, but her attention is a kind of corrosive thing, to my awareness, and I can’t actually abide it.

There are people who know me IRL who read this, and therefore who must know, but we don’t talk about it and it’s for the best, I would probably melt through the floor with the power of my inability to endure critical attention (even positive critical attention) on my actual self if anyone ever brought it up. 
via || nearness without contact  [Archive of Our Own]:


cassian andor/mon mothma, rogue one, 1.9k [nearness without contact
causes numbness]

She is still there, posture very straight and draped in white, whenever he returns. She is always there, standing or sitting at the head of the war-table, watching someone else speak her orders for her. (She doesn’t talk much. It’s an odd realization, when she looms so large in Cassian’s mind, when her voice, her commands, seem thick in the air on Yavin. But she lets others give orders, and Cassian isn’t certain how to feel about that.)

Once—exactly once—he comes across her falling asleep, her head tilted back against the cushion of the chair. It is just between shift-change, and so they are alone in the command center. Her face is older, asleep; she has lines at the corners of her pursed mouth, her shuttered eyes. Her copper hair is falling in her eyes.

He gets close enough to his breath stirs her hair, and he very gently touches her forehead, just with two fingertips.

james bond always cares about M a little too much. (M liked him from the start.)

[read on AO3]


That’s all those of you who don’t produce drawings or comics, fics or drabbles.

All of you who just reblog, only comment, don’t do anything but look and read.

This one’s for you.

Because you’re the likers, the sharers, the taggers, the ask-senders. The reviewers, the praise-givers, the supporters, the flailers. The response, the feedback, the reward for all that hard work. Sometimes the difference between giving up and continuing.

You’re the cornerstone, the heart and soul of this community. It wouldn’t exist without you. Please don’t ever ever think otherwise. Please don’t ever think you shouldn’t talk to the creators whose stuff you enjoy.

And please let me say this:

Thank you for being awesome.

We would literally be NOTHING without ya’ll!

I was thinking about this, and in some frustration, because people often comment on shit I write and are like “oh i wish i could write but i’m useless”, and I’m like, this context makes it hard to appreciate all the things that you can probably do, that I’m useless at, but that are so important and a lot of the backbone of fandom.

I can write, sure. But I can’t keep a thought in my head long enough to organize it. I can’t make a rec list, or curate a community; I’d love to, but I know from bitter experience that I just don’t have that kind of organizational bent. I start strong and fail immediately.

I was going to make a proper standalone post about this, but witness my lack of organization, I’m giving up on that. So– for example, Rogue One fandom in general suffers from, I think, a real dearth of solid archive-type-people. There were rec lists all over for Marvel stuff, but I was really spoiled by my first Tumblr fandom being Stargate: Atlantis, because that fandom especially has just a handful of solid, hardcore curators who have propped up what’s left into a solid community that is accessible and welcoming. Ask for a fic rec, they have a list of specific works that fit the exact niche you want, some new and some old. They can help you find something. They put up lists with works that all fit a theme. And if there isn’t something, they’ll put the prompt out to the active writers, and maybe get you a fill. It’s amazing. It’s inspiring. It means that if you’ve been in the fandom for two minutes or ten years you’ll still be able to easily find the perfect fan works to suit you, and if they don’t exist, you can at least commiserate with others who understand your pain. 

 There’s just not much of this for the new wave of Star Wars, or if there is, I’m out of the loop– I’ve seen a few, but there’s not much of it. People making rec lists, curating communities, organizing challenges– not in any kind of truly organized way, not on any large scale. I’ve read almost no fic except what people I follow have written– and that’s almost all based on self-recs. As a reader, I’m only finding works if the author has mentioned them somewhere I was looking. I haven’t seen any readers making rec lists of things they’ve enjoyed. Just authors, talking about what they’ve written. 

And as a writer, I’ve had very little readership outside of a core constituency, many of whom were people who already read my stuff in other fandoms, or people who surfed in on tags– other fandoms, I’m getting little bumps of readership as something I wrote gets recced here or there, on a mailing list or a forum or in a community– and there’s been none of that with Star Wars. (Exception: my one Poe/Hux semi-darkfic got recced in a community discussion, and I got a great little flood of traffic from it, which I had badly needed at that point in my life and remain grateful for.)

I’m not saying this like, to whine or complain, I’m saying this because it shows how incredibly important the non-creators in a fandom are. Star Wars just doesn’t seem to have a lot of dedicated non-creators in the fandom– or at least, not in the corner I’m in. I’m serious; I haven’t seen one fic rec post for any of the new-canon ships except Kylux. I’m just now starting to see themed communities for some of the new stuff. Just now. I’ve been active in this fandom for over a year. (But, for real: the biggest ship I saw coming out of Rogue One was Baze/Chirrut, but is there a community for that? Is there a rec list? I assumed, sitting there in the theater, I’d be inundated with Bodhi/Cassian but I haven’t seen a single rec post of the New Fandom Classics for it; anything I’ve read, I’ve found by random chance or because a friend wrote it. There were some Stormpilot theme challenges early on last year, but by the time I was actively publishing, they’d died down, and I’ve only seen occasional posts about it since. What happened to the works created during those challenges? Did any of them become classics? Has anyone made a collated list of the top works in the pairing? Is there a rec community anymore?)

I’ve hung out in writer communities, where people work on ideas together and such, and that’s great, but it’s just not the same thing. In a space where everyone’s a creator, it’s really hard to sort it all out. Self-recs favor those good at self-promotion, and don’t help much in determining what any given reader would enjoy.

So, if there’s anyone with a bent for curation, or a desire for more works in their various ships– or, alternately, if there’s a thriving curatorial community that I’ve just somehow totally missed this whole time (extremely possible, I’ve been underwater pretty much) – this is how a community grows and persists, this is how you can contribute if you can’t write. 

[It’s perfectly possible these rec lists exist and I’m just not on them or seeing them; epics tend not to get recced quite as much, and I don’t read widely. But, my Stucky epic did, and I think it got reupped recently, and <3 forever. Bless all you who will read a 200,000-word unfinished work last updated two years ago: there is a special place in paradise for you, because I only ever see Nope Posts about that sort of thing, but in real life, I get comments and love, and it means everything. So before you reblog yet another post about the pure hell of reading WIPs, maybe think that those of us who write them don’t like to be reminded of what a waste of space we are.]

Again, I’m not complaining (or, at least, not mainly trying to). Clearly, I’ve contributed absolutely nothing to the organization or curation of any fandom I’ve ever been in. I can’t even give you a personal rec list for any given fandom because I’m so disorganized I have no idea what I’ve read. If I went to my AO3 history I wouldn’t be able to tell you which of those works I’d really read and which I opened in a tab in a browser that later crashed without my ever having gotten to it. 

I write stories. That’s all I can manage to contribute. I am extremely grateful to fandom’s curators and consumers. I am not very good at either– I don’t even read widely, and when I do, I mostly just kudos, and half the time, anonymously from my phone. I’m a disaster at it. 

Because I spend basically all my free time trying to write. 

So, if you love to read, please, help the rest of us. Rec the stories you’ve read. If you have organizational skills, consider making lists for others to read. Support the creators of the content you enjoy by helping connect them with more readers like you! Not being able to write or draw doesn’t mean you have no talents to improve your chosen fandom.

@bomberqueen17 in fairness I didn’t go close enough to ask the teenagers exactly what they were smoking, but among people my age in southern England ‘to skin up’ means rolling any kind of marijuana joint, and it had never occurred to me that this term wasn’t universal among English speakers! What do people say where you’re from, everyone?

Had never ever heard anything even remotely related like it before; I actually assumed it was something to do with making out, but then why would anyone’s aesthetic matter?

(full quote for reference: “Look at this amazing wisteria on the way to the supermarket/in the park where teenagers discreetly skin up by the fountain. It must really mess with their Tough Urban Aesthetic but they seem ok with it”)

In my dialect you’d just say “get high” and the marijuana part would be assumed. More specifically, we’d probably say “smoke up”. There are all kinds of hilarious marijuana-specific bits of slang that almost no one uses in seriousness, though; I’m so far out of it I couldn’t begin to tell you whether the kids nowadays use cigarette papers or not, so I don’t know if there’d be any form-factor-related slang in play. Recall, we’re the same age, so my heyday of being “with it” in terms of what teenagers do was somewhere between twenty years ago and never. (I did smoke a tiny bit of weed in my mid-twenties, which makes for a hilarious story at some other juncture, but it’s not worth telling at the moment.)

I’m exceedingly jealous of your wisteria. I hear that sort of thing smells nice, but I wouldn’t know, it doesn’t grow in this climate. I tried just now to get a photo of my lilac bush which is just starting to have buds enough to confirm that it survived the winter, but it’s so gray out I can’t really get my camera to focus through the window, and I’m not venturing into my yard, it snowed two feet and then rained for two weeks so it’s approximating Passchendaele scenery-wise out there. (tw: link is WWI battlefield image search, so, black and white despair; astonishingly similar to my current yard, just with fewer drowned New Zealanders, oh God why did I just read that Wikipedia page, this is no longer cute or funny, let’s have a moment of solemn reflection. Hoo boy that got dark. NOPE.)

I do have snowdrops, though– I thought the driveway pavers dug them all up, but a healthy carpet of them survived, hurrah. Not enough to make up for the drowned Kiwis. God I’m so sorry.

Yeah when I was working restaurant shifts I was great at So Long Suckers, but now that I’m in nonprofit every hour not working feels like taking things away from the people I’m serving. And that’s how they manage to pay us comparatively little.

oh, at my dayjob I’m like, punch in, check personal email, fuck around and look busy, take as long a break as possible, punch out ten minutes early. And then I come home and lie around because I’m so tired from all of that avoiding work.

 But then I go to the farm and I’m like. It’s like I’m sinning if I sit down. You know? 

Because there’s just so much to do and all of it matters. And, there, a lot of it is stuff that’s not business-related, but there’s just always so much to do.

It’s not good, because I get exhausted and burn out. But once I’m doing I can keep doing, much more effectively than stopping and starting. So I can be really productive. So I do all kinds of housework things there, that I don’t do for myself at home, because at home I’m already in idleness mode. It’s no good.

But anyway. Ugh. Meaningful work that inspires you is great and all, but it also tends to eat one headfirst, or does for me anyway. 

@aimmyarrowshigh said: (I quietly disagree about SE not being good for Shara character development. It doesn’t have a lot of Kes – the logbook by far is the best development of/for Kes, IMO – but we get more of Shara in SE than in BtA or the logbook. To each their own and how they internalize canon, though!) (Also they’re pretty major adventures for Shara? Since they’re the whole point of the mini-series? She’s absolutely the protagonist of all four issues, above Leia or above Luke, but you’d have to go into it reading for her and not predisposed to read protagonism(?) onto the Skywalkers. But alas. Again, ymmv.)

sugarspiceandcursewords said: Oh, I don’t mean that it’s not good Shara, just that it doesn’t strongly establish anything about her besides general strength and goodness, so it’s not going to wreck anyone’s headcanon of her […] Mostly I don’t love the comics because they accomplish so little progress in so many pages. I know they’re more about the art; that’s just not my preferred focus.

LOL edited and compiled, but S, you’re already doing better than me with your trigger-happy phone– I can neither see nor make replies from mine! But we’ll make a usable discussion system on here yet!

I realize I kept mashing the two of you into posts but hey. Clearly, you’re both Shara fans, so, hey, right? 

I’m always self-conscious in fandom stuff that I’m not an invested-enough fan, because I like to take a thing and then go off in my own corner and work on it, and I don’t like to check back in a lot but I also don’t usually want to make a whole full-fledged AU. So, I’ve definitely Not Done My Due Diligence with Kes, because some of the stuff I’ve done to flesh him out does directly contradict these supplemental-materials-canon stuff, and I’m sad for that but I’m also not fixing it because where I went was, I think, better and more thoroughly-considered than the bonus materials people! (Like, for real, you have a covert operative who’s just going to park his distinctive, officially-sanctioned, literally military-issue ride at his well-known dad’s house and then fly direct to a covert mission and then come right back afterward? Come on, you did not think that through, I like mine better.)





These maps show the regional prevalences of the words ‘bro’, ‘buddy’, ‘dude’, ‘fella’, and ‘pal’ in the contiguous United States.

there are no friends in florida

In DC we just side eye each other based on poltiical affliation. 

Look! I have an actual geographical excuse for saying “dude” as often as I do!!!!

Ahahaha, me too!

shit i’m not dark pink on any of these wtf do we just not greet one another out here???

I asked my dude (see, we clearly use dude) and he sent me this one but that’s California. Then he said that the going slang around here is “brah” which is not on that list.

I guess we just don’t talk to each other that much, that makes more sense.

[n.b. my grandfather’s name was Buddy.]

I mean, I use all of these words, but I only use them in a shout from my car to strangers, so. Dark purple would probably be for BITCH, given that criteria.
yes ideally, but also i’ve been really busy with work lately and havent had the time to think of them and this blog is a 1 person job as of now so
via replied to your post “@aimmyarrowshigh said: (I quietly disagree about SE not being good for…”





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